“Bullshit!”
“Oh, really? You are obviously aware of what Captain Wolfe said he found on your computer. Do you deny that computer is yours?”
“I have no reason to believe he’s even touched my computer.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Really? Perhaps you’d like to try to find it in the overhead where you left it?”
Kat stepped back and Bostich got to his feet and pulled open the overhead compartment, slamming it shut with a grunt when he found it empty.
“Sit down, Mr. Bostich,” she ordered. “I’ll be right back.”
Kat moved to the cockpit door and quietly knocked six times in the sequence Ken had requested. The door swung open and she disappeared inside, returning a few seconds later with Bostich’s computer, and a tiny tape recorder she’d found in the prosecutor’s briefcase.
She sat in the aisle seat on the right side and looked over at Bostich.
“Mr. Bostich, I’ve borrowed—or commandeered, if you want—your microcassette tape recorder, and I’m turning it on now. Do you acknowledge the fact that I’m recording what you say?”
He snorted. “You steal my recorder to use against me? Sure, go ahead. It’ll never be admissible.”
She held up his computer.
“This computer has your business card attached to the case, Mr. Bostich. Do you recognize it as your computer?”
He snorted and nodded.
“Out loud, please.”
“Yes, it’s my goddamn computer, but since it’s been stolen by that maniac, I have no control over what’s been planted there.”
“Did you buy this computer new?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you buy it?”
“By mail order from the manufacturer in Texas, I think.”
“Has anyone else used this computer on a regular basis?”
“Others have had access to it.”
“I didn’t ask that, Mr. Bostich. I asked you if this has been your personal computer, used normally by only you.”
“Yes. I’m the primary user.”
“Stay in your seat, Mr. Bostich.” Kat opened the cover, turned it on, and when the computer had finished spinning up, she entered the appropriate commands to bring up the list of recovered files. She triggered one of the first, and waited until the lurid photo had materialized, then moved to the armrest across the aisle and turned the screen around so he could see it.
“Keep your hands in your lap, Mr. Bostich, but look at this screen. Do you recognize that picture?”
“No! Of course not! That’s been planted there.”
She closed the lid and held the computer in her lap as Bostich motioned to the laptop and then the cockpit.
“He stole my computer. That disgusting image, and anything else that shouldn’t be there, he obviously put there.”
Kat inclined her head as if puzzled. “Well, you have a problem with that explanation, Mr. Bostich, because I’m a witness to the chain of evidence, and he didn’t have any time alone with it before these pictures were discovered.”
Bostich brightened, a sinister smile spreading across his face.
“Oh, of course! You helped him. Without a warrant or probable cause, you started probing my computer and helped him fabricate these charges. That means that whatever you think you found is inadmissible.”
She shook her head. “Wrong. I didn’t touch this computer before these files were discovered. Ken Wolfe found the files without any input from the FBI. Once found, they constituted probable cause. You should know that.” She leaned forward slightly. “See, Mr. Bostich, despite your arrogant attitude on the radio a while ago, I had virtually no reason to suspect you liked kiddie porn. Nor, for that matter, did the captain.”
“I don’t like child pornography!”
“Then why is this picture—and fifty others like it—on your computer? It does exist. I just showed you one of them!”
He shook his head. “All I can tell you is, to the best of my knowledge there were no such files or pictures on any segment of my computer at any time when I walked on this aircraft! Somehow Wolfe has manipulated you and my computer. I can’t make it any more clear than that. Why is that picture there? Hell, I don’t know, but I didn’t put it there, and I didn’t know it was there.”
There was a movement on her left, and Kat realized Annette had quietly come forward and was standing a row behind, listening. Kat began to ask her to leave, but thought better of it, and looked back at Bostich.
“So, you’re telling me, Mr. Bostich, that you were unaware at all times that there were pornographic picture files of any sort on your computer, in any form?”
He shook his head. “That’s right. I never had anything like that on my machine. Good Lord, I’m a federal prosecutor. There was no such material on my hard drive.”
“There is now.”
“The machine was stolen from me by a hijacker who hates me, right? You think for a second a court would consider that uncontaminated evidence? Not a chance.”
Kat shook her head. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me, Mr. Bostich. From the time I came aboard this aircraft, I have been in constant visual contact with Ken Wolfe, and he never had a moment to manipulate your computer.”
Bostich leaned forward with a smirk on his face. “So, Miss Amateur Lawyer, did you consider the fact that it had to have happened before you came on board?”
She inclined her head toward the passenger from 1C who had moved to the back. “I believe you’ll find there’s a witness who’ll testify that from the time your computer was placed by you in the overhead, no one touched it until Wolfe pulled it out and brought it immediately to the cockpit … with me watching.” She patted the top of his computer and looked up. “You’ve got a big problem here, Counselor. These files do exist, they are on your computer, they are illegal, and they were not planted here by the captain or by me. So, how can you explain that reality?”
“Look, you idiot! I’ve already told you. I do not have, maintain, or otherwise possess any pornographic material in my computer. Understood?”
“The pornographic picture files that were found on your computer were locked with your password. Not a random password, but one you’ve obviously used to lock very routine files as well. Did you hear Captain Wolfe mention that password?”
“I heard him mention a password, but I didn’t memorize what it was.”
“The password he mentioned was 97883PSY.”
“Okay.”
“Is that your password?”
“It is a password I’ve used, yes. But it isn’t really secure. I carelessly keep it listed in an unprotected file, which I’m sure Wolfe found, so anyone could use it or plant it.”
“What is the significance of those numbers and letters?”
“They’re random. Just random numbers.”
“And the letters ‘PSY’?”
He shrugged. “I can’t recall.”
“Could that be a contraction for a particular word, Mr. Bostich?”
“No.”
“So it has no significance, was picked at random, and in no way is related to the slang term for a particular part of the female anatomy?”
“What are you suggesting? That ‘PSY’ stands for pussy? No. It doesn’t. I think you’re obsessed with sex, Bronsky.”
She smiled and shook her head in amazement. “I’m not the one who keeps kiddie porn hidden in my computer.”
Bostich came forward in the seat, arms flailing, eyebrows flaring.
“Goddamn you! There was no kiddie porn in my computer. I didn’t load any, I didn’t have any, I never had any, I didn’t maintain any, and there were no erased files on that hard drive as far as I know! GOT IT?”
Kat looked at him in silence as Bostich looked back at her, defiantly, unaware what he had blurted. She waited a very long half minute until Bostich blinked and looked away, then she cleared her throat.
“Mr. Bostich, why did you mention erased files?”
“What?
”
“Well, if files are erased, they’re gone, right?”
“I always thought so,” he replied, his eyes darting from her face to the wall and back.
“So why would you feel the need to assure me you hadn’t erased any files? I’m curious, because before you brought it up, I never mentioned to you the fact that such files existed.”
Bostich leaned back, looking trapped. “I just meant I never had any files on that computer that were pornographic. I didn’t want you thinking I might have had some there at one point, and then gotten rid of them.”
Kat shook her head as if clearing cobwebs. “I … guess I don’t understand why you would bring up erased files, Mr. Bostich. Let’s see …”
She sat back slightly, her eyes on the ceiling as if thinking it through.
“If you never had kiddie porn pictures, you couldn’t have had the opportunity to erase any kiddie porn pictures. Therefore, you wouldn’t be at all concerned with assuring me that you had never erased any such files, because you would know that there never had been any such files, active, erased, or otherwise. Does that make sense to you?”
“Just as I told you, Bronsky. There were never any such files.”
“Okay, but if you’re not telling me the truth and you had loaded kiddie porn pictures to look at, then later decided to get rid of them, you would obviously have erased them. It would then be a very frightening shock if someone opened your computer and said, ‘Hey, Rudy, we found your kiddie porn pictures!’ I mean, you would know that those files had been erased. If they were erased, how could they be found? Someone in that pickle would figure, my God, the only way they could be seeing something there is if the computer didn’t really obliterate those files when I erased them, and somehow they’ve been reconstructed. Partially erased files found on a computer hard drive would be conclusive evidence that the files were once active, which would catch the person in a lie.”
“I don’t know what you’re babbling about, but those picture files are not mine. Period.”
“Well, Mr. Bostich, logically it comes down to this. An innocent man would scream, ‘There were no files there!’ A guilty man, who had tried to get rid of the evidence, would say the same thing, but would add the claim, ‘There were no erased files there, either!’ You did the latter.”
Bostich looked confused, and the shadow of uncertainty that crossed his face was precisely what Kat had wanted to see. He came forward again, this time with the palm of his right hand out as if to offer a friendly explanation, his voice subdued and concerned, with none of the bluster of a minute before.
“Look, you’re misinterpreting me. You claim I had awful pictures on my computer. I know I didn’t have any such pictures there at any time, unless someone, unbeknownst to me, loaded them on, somehow used my password to close them, and … and then, I suppose, stuck the computer back in my case to frame me. And I don’t know when that might have happened.”
“These files were downloaded by a telephone line, Mr. Bostich, as you know.”
“But I don’t know, don’t you see?”
“I think you do. They were downloaded from a particular Internet address that someone had tried unsuccessfully to erase from the files. In addition, I found that same Internet address in another section of your computer.”
“It’s part of a plant, a frame. After all, I’m being considered for high office. I have enemies.”
“Why did you mention erased files, Mr. Bostich?”
He let out a frustrated sigh and looked around, his palms up in a frustrated gesture. “Hell, you were pressuring me. I’m in a horrible situation here. Hijacked, targeted by a madman in the cockpit who’s managed to convince an FBI agent and all the passengers aboard that I’m a terrible guy, and it’s all false!”
“So you only mentioned erased files because I was pressuring you?”
He nodded. “It’s just a mistake, for crying out loud. I misspoke. That was the first time I’ve even thought about the concept of … of erased anything.”
“That’s not true!” Annette said suddenly.
Her voice was a shock to both of them, and Kat turned to look at her, surprised to see the senior flight attendant’s eyes boring into Bostich, who looked around at her in amazement.
“Annette,” Kat asked, “you know something about this?”
“She knows nothing!” Bostich snapped.
“Be quiet!” Kat commanded, turning back to Annette and nodding. “Tell me.”
“In the back, a while ago, I overheard him telling one of the passengers that if the captain had found anything, it would be the remains of files that might have been there once, but were just … He called them shadowy remains of files that had to have been erased before he bought the computer.”
Kat nodded to Annette and turned back to Bostich, watching the color drain from his face.
“But you bought your computer new. Were those statements a mistake, too, Mr. Bostich? Did you misspeak? Were you misquoted? Or did your words really mean something other than what they said?”
“Ah, to hell with you, Bronsky. I’ve sat through manipulative interrogations a thousand times, and you’re a rank amateur.”
She nodded. “Perhaps. But you mentioned erased files back there, and you mentioned erased files up here, and I want to know the real reason why. Did you ever erase any pornographic picture files?”
“No! I’m not going to answer any more questions from you.”
“Well, I’m going to ask one more question of you, Mr. Bostich. Since I think you’ve looked long and hard at each and every one of those pictures, I want to ask you why one in particular didn’t affect you.”
She leaned forward toward Bostich as he plastered himself against the seatback next to the window. Kat kept after him, confusing him, as she moved her face next to his to speak directly into his right ear.
“There was this one shot, Rudy …” she began in a whisper. “There was this little girl, tied to a chair, horribly bruised and battered. It was Melinda Wolfe, as you know, and the picture was taken by her killer.”
She could feel Bostich tense.
“Get away from me!” he snapped.
She pulled back, watching the combination of fury and emotion overwhelm him as he fought against his own better judgment, letting emotion win out.
“How could you have that picture on this computer?” she badgered.
“I didn’t!”
“But it’s there. I saw it myself.”
“I don’t know anything about it.”
“You want to see it again?”
“No! I’ve never seen it.”
“Why, it’s right here, Rudy! It’s on your computer, locked by your password! The most horrible shot I’ve ever seen. The picture on your computer right now, as we speak, is the very sickening shot I just described to you. THE SAME ONE!”
“Nothing like that was there, dammit!” He had his eyes closed, his fists clenched, and his jaw set.
“That could have been your little daughter. The same picture! How could you have had that picture?”
“I didn’t!”
“Well, I can show the world that you did! Imagine your daughter like that.”
He was shaking now, his teeth grinding.
“I—don’t—know—WHAT THE HELL YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!”
She leaned close to his ear again to deliver the last portion of the description.
“In this picture, Rudy, Lumin had already used his knife and butchered her. You know what she’d lost, and you know the picture shows it. Imagine your little daughter sitting there, bloody and butchered.”
Kat whispered the last few specifics of the butchery, knowing that the picture in Bostich’s computer did not contain such details—and knowing that Rudy Bostich knew it as well.
“WHAT?” he yelped in reaction.
“It’s right here, in your computer.”
“The hell it is!”
“You, a father, with a daughter who was once elev
en years old, too. How on earth could you carry such a picture?”
“I didn’t! There’s no such picture!”
“Are you going to tell me it was an evidence file, Rudy?”
He hesitated, obviously calculating whether such a claim could work, but realized he’d trapped himself. “NO! There’s no such picture.”
“You can see the ragged skin, the blood, and the agony she’s in!”
“Not in MY computer! NEVER in my computer!”
“It’s here, in my lap, in your computer. THE SAME PICTURE, DAMN YOU!” she yelled suddenly, watching his eyelids pop open as he came forward to yell back.
“THAT’S A DIFFERENT SHOT THAN I HAD!”
Kat left the stunned silence undisturbed as she watched Bostich’s expression change from quaking fury to wide-eyed horror.
She looked down and nodded. “I know it is, Mr. Bostich.” She looked him in the eye. “I wanted to make sure you knew as well. You’re right, as you well know. The picture of Melinda Wolfe in your computer does not show any mutilation, but you didn’t know you were going to get any shots of a little murder victim, did you? You thought you were just buying the usual package from your supplier.”
His eyes were wide, his mouth open, and there was no attempt to answer.
She glanced down again. “Look, Rudy. Men sometimes have some pretty weird feelings about women, and even though possessing pictures like you have on your computer breaks the law, I know that sometimes that sort of lurid interest begins as a deviant urge and grows, until one day, stupidly, you let your twisted fantasies take over, and you buy something you shouldn’t have ever touched. Your supplier sent Melinda’s picture as a warning not to expose him, didn’t he? DIDN’T HE?”
She saw him moisten his lips, his breathing accelerating as he watched her.
“You see, Rudy, I already know it was the supplier who gave you the tip about Melinda’s murderer. You called Detective Matson in all innocence, trying to catch a murderer, but when the judge wanted to talk to you about it, your supplier, who gave you the information to begin with, warned you to say nothing about your source, or he’d expose your nasty little habit of looking at pictures of children being forced to have sex.”
The Last Hostage Page 33